Magic Lies In The Little Things
by RoweenaC
Summary: Sometimes younger siblings are a pest. SOmetimes, however, they have their own special magic... Wee!chesters


Sam leaned back and scowled. It had been three days since Dad had last shown his ever so serious face. Three long, boring days. School holidays never really cheered him up. They only rendered him bored. No homework and no way to fill the empty hours between getting up and going to bed instead of watching the TV... or annoying Dean.

The latter wasn't a very safe way to pass the day as Dean could be very intimidating if Sam overdid his pranks or jokes. And he full well wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of a couple of punches. Especially as Dean had been in a weird mood lately. Very morose and silent. Sam wondered what was bugging his elder brother. However as Dean rarely ever spoke about his thoughts and feelings, Sam had learned how to guess what went on inside his sibling's head. Not this time though.

Over the last days since Dad's departure, Dean had kept to himself, rarely meeting his brother's eyes for more than a second and avoiding any conversations if possible. He stayed inside the other room of their rented place for hours at a time, not even bothering to come out for his favorite TV Shows.

As their motel was really far away from the town's center and the arcades, all Dean could do to vent his stocked up feelings was join his baby brother watching the TV or go for walks. And Dean wasn't a take a walk guy. No sir! Somehow though, the he had chosen to lay on his bed all day instead of their accustomed way of wasting their free time.

Sam turned his head towards the nearly closed door separating his teenage brother from him and grimaced. Dean's current mood certainly wouldn't help to cheer him up. If anything, it kind of seeped through the walls, wafted about the whole place and brought Sam down even more. What would brighten his and Dean's spirits? Thin creases furrowed Sam's forehead as he tried to think of something.

MPMMPMMPMMPMMPM

Dean huffed and threw the knife across the bedroom. He winced as the metal scraped along the brick wall and landed clinking on the wooden floor. No way to treat your birthday present! Out of instinct drummed into him by years of taking care of weapons, he started to stand up and see if any scratches had dulled the carefully honed blade. Half way through the motion however, he fell back into his pillow. No point in getting up. No point in keeping the knife sharp. No point at all in doing anything. His bottom lip stuck out as his pout became even more pronounced.

Dean's mind wandered back to the evening three days ago and he growled. Dad had been very clear. Hell yeah! "Sit tight and watch out for Sammy. I'll be back soon." Great. Baby-sitting duty. Like always. Some things never changed. Even if you're sixteen and just killed your first evil sonuvabitch. And what a great feeling that had been! He had hunted the sucker down and wasted him. Burned him to a crisp while Sam had been compelled to wait in the car.

Dad had been proud.

Sure thing, he hadn't said anything of the kind but Dean had learned to read his father's guarded expression. He had been forced to do so as John rarely ever praised him in words. But that night, his father had been very proud.

It had shone from his brown eyes that had never left his son's blood-smeared face. And he had even brushed a hand through Dean's spiky hair. The teenage hunter would never have admitted to it but the skin on his head still tingled with joy every time his thoughts returned to that memorable moment.

Therefore, when his father had readied himself for his next hunt Dean had started to pack his own duffel bag. Only to be stopped by his father's harsh voice asking him what the hell he was doing there. Dean's head had shot up at the commanding tone and a deep sense of foreboding had crept along his spine.

Dean turned his head towards the sofa checking if Sam had woken up by his father's raised voice before he replied in an unusually unruly manner. He hardly ever questioned John's orders but this time he would stand his ground against him. Make no mistake. This was his life now, being a hunter and going places with his dad. It had been all he ever strove for, to be with his father and do some good.

But John wouldn't hear of it. It had been like the first kill had never happened. Back to square one, to his prime directive. _Too much Star Trek_, he made a mental note not to watch any more in the coming weeks.

"Take care of your little brother, boy!" His insides had boiled at that, from anger and frustration as well as a big brother's bad conscience so deeply engrained in him that Dean presumed it was part of his DNA.

Not that he hated Sammy. On the contrary. However, being stuck in a stupid motel with your 12-year-old brother after officially being initiated into the hunters' world SUCKED OUT LOUD!

Dean rolled over on one side, back turned towards the door, and faced the wall pondering his misery when a creaking sound reached his ears. His head swiveled back so fast that Sam – the origin of the disturbance – bounced back a few inches.

"WHAT?" That had come out a little too harsh and Dean immediately felt sorry for his brother. "What is it, Sammy?" he tried again and flashed a lopsided smile.

"It's Sam." Dean couldn't refrain from grinning more broadly at the cute sight of the boy in front of him puffing out his skinny chest and squaring his shoulders. "And I don't wanna bug you or anything. I just had an idea... Wanna hear it?" Nervously biting his bottom lip Sam hopped from one foot to the other, his gaze never leaving his brooding brother's face. _Please, please, please!_

"Sure. Fire away, geek-boy." Dean sat up on his mattress, green eyes resting curiously on Sam's familiar features. Maybe he had come up with something good. _You never know, brain like his_. Anything was better than being stuck here, he acknowledged. Even some childish and presumably boring proposition.

"What about... going to the woods and making a campfire there? Just you and me. We could roast some marshmallows and tell ghost stories...." Spilling out the words faster than he had planned out of nerves, Sam's voice trailed off. The look, however, he gave Dean overflowed with hope and plea. There was no way Dean would be able to parry Sam's trademark puppy dog's. He had never been able to fight that particular attack. Thus, scowling slightly, he tried only halfheartedly to bring some reason to Sam's attempt.

"You know full well that there are ghost out there for real?! What's the point in telling stories about them?" However, he was thwarted by a little boy's logic.

"Well, we could pretend they weren't real. Or we could pretend to pretend. Y'know?"

Groaning heavily, Dean knew he was defeated, rose from his bed and patted Sam fondly on his back. "Right, bitch. As long as you can hold that weird thinking of yours in check and we just sit there."

Sam's lips parted in a wide smile and he answered."Cool. I'll go get the marshmallows. I've seen some in one of the cupboards in the kitchen."

Running off, Sam bellowed out a howl a werewolf would have been proud of and Dean smiled. How was it that Sam always made him feel better? That boy really knew how to lift his spirits.

MPMMPMMPMMPMMPM

An hour later, both boys had found a nice enough place in the near woods to make a fire without risking detection or a forest fire. Surrounded by tall, old trees there was a small circular clearing and in its center the sandy ground made a hollow encompassed by a few large rocks. Perfectly laid out for a fire. Satisfied, Sam looked at his brother and grinned. Dean mirrored the smile and nodded. He was really beginning to enjoy himself, he noticed a little surprised.

John had taught them how to build a pyre to get rid of the tell-tale bodies they were forced to leave behind, so they set out to gather wood and after another thirty minutes, the fire was crackling happily, orange flickers lighting their juvenile faces.

"So. How we gonna do this, Sam?" Dean suddenly observed that he had never before made a campfire just for fun. He felt like a boyscout. Pushing his hands deep into his frayed jeans' pockets he stood there waiting for his little brother to explicate their further steps. Dean knew Sam would have all the information they needed as the boy was a little obsessive when it came to that. _I wouldn't be surprised if he made a sketched out floorplan of the campsite…god, he's a geek!_

Sam rummaged in his bag and finally fished the package out to hold it up like a prize. "We're gonna need sticks to hang them into the fire."

Dean's face fell a little as his eyes registered the candy inside the plastic wrapping. "They're pink." he stated matter-of-factly and a little annoyed.

"You sure you didn't buy them yourself, Samantha? 'Cos you seem to be a pink marshmallow type, y'know, to match your handbag."

Sam lunged at his big brother good-naturedly and smiled contently all the time. What a relief to hear his brother's snark!

"You don't have to eat them." Sam piped up and grinned mischievously. "I'll eat them all."

"You wish! Now that I'm here, I wanna eat. I'm starving. We should've brought some meat though. Could do with sausages or something..." Dean laid his right hand on his stomach and felt it rumble demandingly. When had he last eaten? He had been so occupied with feeling low that he actually had forgotten to eat for... at least a day! Amazed at himself he snatched the candy bag from his brother's loose grip and tore the plastic in two.

"So, where are those sticks you mentioned?" Busying himself with counting the sticky sweets he only glanced up once at Sam to prompt him to fetch the twigs they needed.

A few minutes later, Sam returned vindictively waving with some rather straight twigs to prick the pink marshmallows on. "We still need to sharpen them a little." Sam held the stickers out to Dean knowing his older brother would be glad to occupy his never resting limbs with something.

"How do you know all this stuff?"

He mumbled and, shaking his head disbelievingly, reached for his Bowie Knife. Assessing the shiny metal Dean registered that the blade hadn't suffered from his thoughtless and rage-induced throw earlier. It only took a few cuts and the sticks were ready for their sugary tops.

Ignoring his brother's query, Sam explained "Now, we hold them above the flames. No... not too low, Dean. They'll get all black and burned. You need a little time. They should only be caramelized." Sam's voice had taken on a lecturing tone and Dean became slightly annoyed with his geek brother.

"Cara... what?? Dude, you seem more like a girl every second!"

"They have to turn brown. And then they are ready." Sam went on unperturbed by Dean's attempt to taunt him. He felt too happy. This was going better than he had dreamed of. No more moody, silent Dean. No more unhappy thoughts. Though he still wondered what had brought Dean low.

Dean cocked an eyebrow and observed his younger sibling across the fire. Sam seemed cheerful and a little too content. What the hell was going on here? Unable to wrap his mind around the whole business, Dean blurted out.

"What's up, Sammy? What's the plan?"

Shocked and a little too late to mask it Sam tried to play for time. "Uhm. I... I don't know what you mean."

"Like hell! What's with all this boyscout stuff?"

Sam yielded as he registered that evading the truth would only aggravate the situation. Honesty was the only option now.

"I tried to find something ... to cheer you up. You were so quiet... I don't like that. I know you don't wanna talk about it. So, I thought we might do something else. I read about this in a book and I kinda liked the sound of it. So,..." His unfinished sentence hung in the air, stretching in the silence enveloping the fire. They both sat there silently, avoiding eye contact. Sam out of courtesy for Dean's feelings and the older boy out of embarrassment.

For a minute Dean was torn between anger and gratefulness. His little brother had attempted to help him. To take care of him. Dean was at a loss. How the hell had Sam found out? When had his baby brother become his keeper? At these thoughts Dean felt the weight on his young shoulders lift. Not completely, but gradually. He wasn't alone. Sam was there to look out for him. Sam would have his back no matter what.

Dean watched as his marshmallow crumpled and the pink color slowly merged into a tasty caramel brown crust. Magic marshmallows. Changing colors. Growing into something else.


End file.
